


Ghost Bites

by Corvid_Knight



Series: Demonstuck [21]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drabble, Flashbacks, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, mention of past sexual abuse/rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 17:16:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16433558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corvid_Knight/pseuds/Corvid_Knight
Summary: Prompt was:  "Teeth on your throat. Tears in your eyes.Nothing will ever hurt you again."I may have taken some liberties.





	Ghost Bites

  Fuck. No. 

  You’re not asleep. You  _know_ you’re not asleep; shit never feels this close in dreams, this immediate. In a dream you’d hear his voice in your ears, rough and amused and excited, in the worst sense of the word, but you wouldn’t _feel_ him. Not like this. 

  Not like this. Not like _this_.

 Your eyes are burning. There’s the ghost of pain at the place where your neck meets your shoulder, too close to your back to be called your throat but still,  _still_ , it’s your throat because it feels like he’s got his hand on your windpipe and you can’t breathe. You can feel his teeth there, where it won’t hurt you — 

( _he’d never hurt you, not in a way that you can’t deal with in the end_ )

  — on the scars of all the times he’s sank his teeth into your skin before. He bites when he’s done, when he’s almost done with the first fucking round. It’s his fucking teeth in you, like he’s in you. It’s not the worst. It is the worst. 

  No.

  Fuck. Please.  _Please_. 

_Dave!_

  Dave. That’s you, but it’s not Bro calling your name. Of course it’s not, you can still feel his teeth at your throat, phantom pains flaring in your skin under your hands clawing to get him  _off_ you, to —

  Shit. 

  There’s no one in here. No one but you, huddled on the fucking shower floor and flinching at the water falling on you despite the fact you were the one who turned the fucking shower on. No one but you, fucking  _gasping_ for a deep breath that just won’t come, trying to claw out a bite that happened years ago. 

  No one but you and a voice in your head that’s furious (not at you) and worried and comforting all at once. It’s that voice you focus on, cling to, because you can’t listen to the memory of rough-sweet whispers in your ear, of murmured directions that you wish you never had to learn to anticipate. 

  You wish — 

  _I’m coming, okay? Dave? I’m coming, just—_

God, but you can’t concentrate well enough to let him finish.  _Need you,_  you think back at him instead, and,  _please_.

  He doesn’t give you back words, but the wave of understanding you get from his mind is enough to make you go limp against the corner. There’s water in your eyes and tears in your eyes and you don’t fucking know how to fix that even though it hurts, it really does, it hurts almost as much as the teeth in your throat— 

   _It’s not him, Dave, I swear_ — 

  And then Karkat is there. Here. In the fucking shower, not even bothering to turn the water off before he steps in and scoops you up off the floor. He’s soaked in seconds; the fact that you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck and press your face into his chest doesn’t fucking help at all. 

  “Fuck, Dave,” he murmurs, so much gentler than anyone else knows how to be with you, and then the water beating down on you is gone. Not turned off; you can still hear it running. Less now, because Karkat’s got you, taking you somewhere else. 

  He can’t just…leave it on.  _Kat, the water—_

  “Dirk or somebody can get it. It’s okay.” 

   _No._  

  “It is. It really is.” Gentle fingers brush against the back of your throat as the demon shoves the door to your room open, and you shudder and cry out at the small flare of pain there. “Dave—”  _It’s not what you’re thinking—_

You want to tell him that you know that. You know it’s not a bite wound, it’s your own stupidity—

   _No, it’s not._

It  _is,_ you clawed the shit out of yourself. You know that. In your mind, in your head, you know that he’s gone, he didn’t do this,  _you_ did this—

  “For fuck’s sake, Dave,” Karkat mumbles, and sits down on the bed, hugging you up to his chest. “You hear me?”  _It’s not you. It’s not your fault._

_I hear you._ And you do, but your body doesn’t have ears. Your body, the nerves strung so tight it fuckin’ hurts, that idiot part of yourself, it doesn’t know Bro’s gone. Still, after all this time, it can’t tell memories from events, can’t sort shit out.  _Stay with me?_

   _Like I’d ever go anywhere else_ , he thinks back at you, and his hand threads through your hair as you exhale slow and almost-steady, cradling you close as you bury your face in his chest again. 

  He’s here. 

  He’s not going anywhere. 

  The pain in your shoulder is already fading, the tears in your eyes are drying. Bro’s gone, and you’re here with the guy you love more than anything.

  It’s okay.


End file.
